


Sleepless in Resembool

by A Passing Housewife (flourchildwrites)



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Automail, Bonfires, Brotherly Bonding, Childhood Friends, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Drunkenness, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Hangover, Heart-to-Heart, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Post-Promised Day, Sleep Deprivation, Trouble In Paradise, good advice, respect your elders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-03-26 20:36:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13865535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flourchildwrites/pseuds/A%20Passing%20Housewife
Summary: There was a particular brand of misery that came with being close to both Edward Elric and Winry Rockbell.  Even after the trials of the promised day, the would-be childhood sweethearts were no closer to actually admitting they were in love.  Well, it was more accurate to say they were no closer to admitting it to each other.Ed paced and blabbered on in an unnaturally high pitched voice. Winry waved her wrench with reckless abandon.  Al rued the day he ever welcomed their late night confessions.How's a guy supposed to get any sleep?





	1. A Simple Man

**Author's Note:**

> I took a break from your regularly scheduled RoyAi to write a little light EdWin ditty. Who knew it would all pour out onto the page so easily? Most of the chapters are written, but I should probably reread them before posting for, you know, spelling, grammar, cohesiveness, flow, plot holes, etc. The little stuff. What I wouldn't give for beta!
> 
> I hope you enjoy.
> 
> As always, comments and constructive criticism are welcome.

Alphonse Elric was a simple man. In that way, the ordinary pleasures of everyday life in Resembool healed the wounds dealt by the loss of his body better than any medicine. A hearty meal, the radiant warmth of a spring day, the feeling of grass between his toes… Al’s senses reveled in such moments, finding something both old and new in the same sensation.

However, a good night’s sleep remained elusive. Not that Al didn’t try to greet the sandman with eyes wide shut. Other people chased him away. After all, there was a particular brand of misery that came with being close to both Edward Elric and Winry Rockbell.

Eight hours. Eight consecutive, glorious hours of sleep was all that Al found himself wanting in recent days. It has been months since he returned to his body, but frail and withered as he still was, rest was hard to come by when Ed and Winry were on his mind… or in his room… or yelling at each other… or ignoring each other completely.

Of course, Al blamed himself. He’d been a talkative suit of armor, especially at night when the rest of the world was still and quiet. His animated body had felt restless, horribly out of sync with the circadian rhythm of his peers.

Listening to other people’s problems had occupied Al’s thoughts and staved off relentless self pity and doubt. At one time, he had welcomed, perhaps encouraged, their late night confessions. So it was only natural that they still came to him with their worries and woes. Only now, Al desperately wanted the solace of sweet dreams.

Al assumed, _wrongfully_ , that the promised day would have eased their inhibitions, what with almost dying and all. Al hoped, _erroneously_ , that either Edward Elric, Amestris’ _heroic_ fullmetal alchemist or Winry Rockbell, Rush Valley’s _premier_ automail engineer would, for lack of a better term, grow a pair and admit how they felt.

But, to Al’s dismay, the biweekly tirades continued. Ed and Winry were no closer to actually admitting they were in love. Well, it was more accurate to say they were no closer to admitting it to each other. Yes, Alphonse ruefully mused, that last part was the fly in the ointment.

Ed paced and blabbered on in an unnaturally high pitched voice. Winry waved her wrench with reckless abandon while running her free hand through her blond locks. Al yawned as the night became the morning, attempting to insert logic into the situation whenever possible.

They never listened. Yet another thing Ed and Winry had in common.

And their attraction to each other could not have been more obvious. Even as a disembodied soul residing in a suit of armor, Al could sense something more than friendship. It was in the way Winry examined Ed’s automail. Her fingers always lingered over the places where metal met skin.

Winry consumed Ed’s thoughts. How often had he told Al that something reminded him of their childhood friend? How often had he called her to confess the sorry state of his automail? It was as if Ed liked being berated.

But being back in his own body washed away any doubt for Al. Granted, Winry had thrown herself at both brothers when they returned to Resembool, four arms and three flesh and blood legs between the two. She’d wept and embraced Al, stuffing him with enough apple pie to feed an army.

However, things were different between Winry and Ed. Yes, she has also cried and offered Ed endless amount of baked treats, but she’d remained in his arms just a little too long. She’d obsessed over the scarring on his right shoulder. And Ed was, perhaps, worse. He’d followed her around like a lovestruck puppy for a three days “accidentally” bumping into her, finding excuses to touch her, playing with the fabric of her sleeve.

The timing couldn’t have been better. Even Al had to admit, Ed’s physique finally filled the shoes laid out by his own reputation, and Winry’s bearing, while still petite and girlish, no longer wanted for curves. To put it crudely, Ed was a hungry man, having endured the rigors of their campaign to save Amestris, and Winry had the only apple pie Ed ever wanted.

It was all going so well. Until… the bonfire.


	2. The Bonfire

Al missed the Resembool bonfires during their absence. Held only twice a year, at the turn of the fall to winter and the spring to summer, it was less a celebration than a homage, an outgrowth of the old ways. One to ask the Gods for a gentle winter, the other to thank Mother Nature for the fruits of her harvest. Food, drink, music and dancing was the rule of the day as the fires burned to embers in a fury of red, orange and yellow light.

The young and the old celebrated together as the flames rose into the night air. As children Al, Ed and Winry danced barefoot around the fire, completely oblivious to the rhythm of the music. Bright red sparks brushed Ed’s fingertips and caught the hem of Winry’s dress. _Those two_ , Al thought, _always getting too caught up in the moment, getting burned by their own recklessness_. And yet, they couldn’t find the words.

Ed and Al had much to celebrate at the June bonfire, and the people of Resembool were grateful for their efforts, even if their roles in the “failed coup” remained unclear. Local wine flowed like water that evening, coloring the cheeks of Ed and Winry. Pinako sat with the village elders, contentedly smoking her pipe.

Al watched the scene play out from the comfort of a warm spot by the fire. His body grew stronger each day, but Al wasn’t up to the challenge of alcohol. Ed, however, had taken up the gauntlet, and judging by the way he kept laughing too loudly, his liquid courage had transmuted itself into brazen obnoxiousness.

The brothers were largely strangers to the guilty pleasures of adults. Though Al’s childhood had effectively ended at age 10, he and Ed watched all manner of debauchery from the sidelines, consumed with their quest to reclaim their bodies. Now, Al had a front row seat to witness his brother’s first drunken episode.

Honestly, it could have been much worse.

Ed was downright merry. By the looks of it, he didn’t know a stranger in the whole of Resembool, and as the night progressed, his social restraint waned, along with his coordination. Around midnight, Ed teetered precariously on his good leg, the connection between body and automail suffered as Ed’s neurological messages drowned in a sweet mixture of sake and plum wine.

Enter Winry Rockbell, automail geek extraordinaire.

Winry hadn’t exactly shied away from the liquor, but in Al’s humble opinion, she maintained her composure. The only telltale signs were the flush to her cheeks and the lazy glint in her eyes. Eyes that, Al happily noticed, had been glued to Ed for most of the evening. She always returned to Ed, even as she mingled with the rest of the townsfolk.

Cue an “unfortunate” drink spill by one Edward Elric.

“You need to lay off the drinks, Ed,” Winry lectured. Her voice laced with genuine concern as she uselessly patted down the wet spot on the front Ed’s shirt. “Come on, I’ll help you to the house.”

Yes, the house. No Pinako. No Alphonse. Just Ed, Winry and years of pent up sexual tension.

“Itsnotmeee…” Edward sloppily exclaimed accepting Winry’s assistance as and he slipped an arm around her shoulders.

Physical contact, sans a wrench, was positive.

“It’s my damn automail.”

Oh no.

“ _Your_ automail,” Winry nearly squealed. She pushed Ed’s arm from her shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with my automail. There’s everything wrong with the fact that you just had to drink so much and treat the whole town, except me, like your best friend.”

“Well maybe if someone upgraded _her_ automail,” Ed retorted, swaying on the spot and pointing an accusatory finger at Winry, “I wouldn’t look so stupid in front of the whole town. And I’m just being socialistab… sociable. Unlike some crazy gearhead.”

“This gearhead upgrades your automail more than anyone else’s,” Winry exclaimed. “And I have other clients, in Rush Valley, who would love to talk to me all night.”

“Other _clients_ ,” Ed started with indigence. “Then why have you been hanging around here for months?”

Pinako’s eyes met Al’s, and they exchanged an exasperated glance. Leave it to Ed and Winry to completely botch a golden opportunity because of automail maintenance. Al sighed and rose from his seated position.

He conceded defeat. The less they said the better. Winry had enough ammunition for a two hour minimum venting session at this point. Al could feel the bags under his eyes deepen in anticipation.

“Better get home brother,” Al said to Ed, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. ‘It’s late.”

Even though his body wasn’t made of metal anymore, Al cut an imposing figure. He favored his mother, but Al’s complexion reflected his unique Xerxesian heritage. Despite Ed’s recent growth spurt, Al was taller with a broader face and a chiseled jaw line. He styled his golden-blond hair short, parting it on the left side.

“Are you kiddin’?” Ed said enthusiastically as he grabbed a fresh bottle of sake from a nearby tray, taking a long swig of the warm liquid. “I’m just gettin’ start…”

But Ed was, in fact, finished. The connection between his leg and his automail failed completely. Both Ed and the sake bottle toppled over, landing in a broken heap on the ground. Al acted as quickly as he could, hoisting his wizened brother to a standing position.

The pair hobbled deliberately toward Pinako’s house. Al attempted to compensate for Ed’s malfunctioning automail, but he could only handle so much. Ed kept his head bowed, gritting his teeth as his automail painfully disconnected and reconnected. It would be a miracle if Ed made it home without getting sick.

A wet belching noise came from Ed’s general direction. Al heard a sickening splat.

At least Ed was predictable.


	3. His Brother's Keeper

“I don’t understand, Granny,” Al vented over breakfast the next morning. True to form, Al had tossed and turned all night after he finally managed to dump Ed on the living room couch. Both Ed and Winry were, thankfully, out cold, leaving two empty spots at the table.

“They love each other. I know they do, but, they always end up fighting.”

Pinako peered at Al over the top of her horn rimmed glasses. As usual, she wore her wiry gray hair in a tight top knot, the lines of her face accentuated her contemplative expression. As a young woman, Pinako had been curvy and of average height, but old age had robbed her of those attributes.

Nevertheless, the gray lady kept her formidable bearing. Age sharpened her wit and transformed her knowledge into wisdom. At first blush, no one guessed that the elderly woman was a first-rate surgeon and automail engineer. Al often suspected that Pinako preferred it that way.

“Love is a peculiar beast, and that’s just the way Ed and Winry choose to deal with it,” Pinako responded, taking a long drag from her pipe. “If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen. You all are so young; there’s no need to rush things. Why does it bother you so much, Al?"

Al turned to gaze out the kitchen window. He hadn’t expected that question. Surely, the Edward-Winry dynamic in the Rockbell household bothered Pinako just as it troubled Al. Surely, she spent as many hours as he did brainstorming the right thing to do or say, for the sake of her granddaughter if not for the sake of peaceful shut eye.

“He’s my brother, and she’s my friend. I want them to be happy,” Al said with a smile. “Doesn’t it worry you?”

Pinako chuckled. “I hope you won’t mind me saying, Al, but you remind me of Trisha. Such a kind person, your mother. Always thought of other people before herself, but she was never this miserable.”

The elderly woman took a drag from her pipe, exhaled and continued. “How do I put this? Empathy is a good thing, my boy. But, you seem to be suffering for Winry and Ed. It doesn’t matter whether or not I think they belong together. It’s up to them to decide. The same goes for you.”

The expression that crossed Al’s face contained equal parts confusion and indignation. “I do make my own decisions, Granny,” Al said in a small voice. “I just… they talk to me… about each other… all the time. I can’t tell them to go away, not after everything brother has done for me.”

“Yes, you can,” Pinako simply responded. “You and Ed got into trouble together, and you got out together. Lord knows I wish I would have pried a little more into what you were doing, but it’s not my way.”

The straightforward woman shook her head, casting a regretful gaze upon her hands. Everyone she’d ever loved had been touched by tragedy. But she kept moving forward, day by day, one foot in front of the other.

All the same, when she met Al’s gaze, Pinako did so without reservation. “The best thing you can do for yourself is to tell Ed and Winry to solve their own problems,” she declared with finality. “Stop worrying about them. Ed didn’t risk his life for you to prevent you from living yours.”

Al stared down at his plate and absentmindedly shuffled his eggs from one side to the other. His soul felt weary and deflated. Al had hoped to find an ally in Granny, but their conversation made him feel alone in thought, word and deed.

Inwardly, the young man bristled at the idea that he was meddling in someone else’s affairs. The Elric brothers owed each other everything. Theirs was a debt beyond value, one that could never be repaid. But was it pointless to even try? And if Ed and Winry didn’t truly want or need help, why did they continue involving Alphonse?

The stairs creaked as a droopy-eyed Winry descended the staircase. She moved deliberately, grasping the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. Al could smell the alcohol seeping out of her pores as she slid into the seat next to him.

“Good morning, Winry,” Al said cheerfully, happy to leave _that_ conversation behind.

“Wha… Oh… Morning Al,” Winry said squinting at the bright light of the kitchen. She smiled weakly at her childhood friend. “Granny, do you have anything for a headache?”

The old woman chucked, much to Winry’s chagrin. “A good breakfast, plenty of water and some rest ought to do the trick. There’s some ibuprofen too,” she said offhandedly. “You’ll need to give Ed’s automail a tune up this afternoon. He barely made it to the couch.”

“Granny!” Winry exclaimed as she pressed her forehead to the table. “Can’t you do it? Do you know what he said…”

“It’s your craftsmanship,” Pinako interjected as she rose from the table. “I don’t feel comfortable interfering with another person’s work. It’s not fair to the client or the engineer.”

“But he…”

“But nothing. His automail is a reflection of the caliber of your work.”

Winry fell silent as she grabbed a biscuit from the basket on the table. Alphonse marveled at the way Winry’s complaints yielded to her grandmother’s indomitable will. Winry swallowed a mouthful of biscuit and jam before making a frustrated grunt.

“You know,” Winry said turning to Al, “your brother can be a big jerkface sometimes. You were there! You saw him practically throwing him at all those snobs from school who barely knew his name before he became a state…”

Al stared blankly at his childhood friend as he all but tuned out her voice. Instinctively, he nodded, throwing in an occasional “oh really” or “is that so.” Pinako caught Al’s eye from the adjoining room. She gave the young alchemist a pointed look.

 _Equivalent Exchange… If Ed and I owe each other everything_ , Al thought, _is there really any debt left to repay?_


	4. Of Hangovers and Bad Habits

Ed vowed that his first hangover would be his last. He wasn’t sure what was worse: the searing headache, the hint of nausea or the debilitating embarrassment he suffered as the night’s events replayed in his mind’s eye. The physical effects alone ensured that Ed was dead to the world until noon. Even then, Ed only managed to wake up after Pinako prodded him gingerly with her cane. The former alchemist groaned like a wounded animal, lashing out irrationally at even the most helpful of hands.

Pinako retreated to the quiet solace of her sunny porch during Ed’s hour of need; nevertheless, Al came to the rescue with a large glass of water, a cold breakfast biscuit and an ibuprofen. Winry was nowhere in sight. Her absence was a small victory in Ed’s mind. She didn’t need to see him like this, dirty clothes, matted hair and wounded pride.

What had he done to himself?

The elder Elric brother managed to choke down his medicine with a glass of water and a small bite of biscuit. He rested the back of his head against the living room wall, shielding his eyes from the midday sun with his forearm. The light glinting off Ed’s automail painted the dark room with bands of bright white light. Even with both his feet planted firmly on the floor, the room continued to spin. Ed swore the birds were chirping with unprecedented vigor just to spite him.

“I don’t know what got into me,” Ed said as he finished off the biscuit.

“Alcohol,” Al responded dryly. “Granny says your automail needs repair and recalibration.”

“I figured as much,” Ed sighed as he surveyed the dirt and damage. The sorry state of Winry’s craftsmanship was exaggerated by pieces of earth sandwiched in each and every crevice. The young man winced as he massaged a particularly sore spot on his thigh. “Do you think Granny would take a look at it for me?”

“Nope. She was very clear about that. It’s Winry’s work.”

Al looked toward Ed, anticipating a witty retort, but none came. The former fullmetal alchemist ran his fingers through his dirty blond locks. Ed’s customarily neat ponytail was hopelessly tangled, much like the young man’s precarious predicament. How could he face her after making such an ass of himself? What on God’s green earth lead him to believe that flirting with other women would get Winry to make the first move?

At least the second question had an answer. His fourth glass of sake had inspired that dumpster fire of an idea.

Ed groaned as he rested his head against Pinako’s dainty wallpaper. “I’m dead, Al. She’s going to kill me and not just because of the automail. I’m an idiot.”

But Al remained uncharacteristically sullen, silent and contemplative. Truth be told, his heart wasn’t in the conversation. Yet, Alphonse had played this part long enough to know his lines. This was the scene where he told Ed that he wasn’t a complete idiot. He’d convince his brother that Winry would forgive him because she always forgave him. Al would even point out that, despite ample opportunity to return to Rush Valley, Winry hadn’t left.

Almost like she was waiting for something or _someone_ , Al would stress.

However, Pinako’s cutting observations resonated with Alphonse. Her advice gave him pause. Granny was right; Trisha’s kindness was alive and well within him. Still, Al didn’t enjoy the constant will-they won’t-they of the Edward and Winry saga. Not anymore. Not now that he had a life to build starting back at square one.

And compelling though the tale was to an outsider, Al was tired. Tired of the back and forth. Tired of his advice falling on selectively deaf ears. Perhaps, Alphonse was even tired of being joined at the hip with Edward. If the status quo remained unchanged, he would end up resenting Edward and Winry.

The solution was surprisingly simple, so elementary that Al chastised himself for not realizing the truth sooner. His sleeplessness had little to do with Ed and Winry. It had everything to do with how involved he’d unwittingly become in a situation where he had no control. And while one could argue that Ed required his brother’s support now more than ever, Alphonse needed to stand apart, to forge his own path.

For the first time in long time, the younger brother put himself first.

“Do you regret it, brother?” Al asked abruptly. “You know, giving up your alchemy to bring me back from the gate.”

An uneasy silence settled between the brothers. Even the birds and bees seemed to still their jittery bodies to press their ears against the windowpanes. Everything about the moment told Al that he had bad timing, but that was the problems with the right time. Al would wait for it patiently but, in the blink of an eye, the moment would pass. Alphonse had surrendered his childhood to a costly folly of youth. Ed’s happiness was an albatross that Al did not want to carry into the future.

“What,” Ed responded with a perplexed expression. “Of course not. I did it because we’re family. Human transmutation was my bright idea. ”

“We both missed mother,” Al sadly stated. “We were both too young, but I could’ve said no, told Granny and stopped you. I knew it was wrong. Human transmutation was my choice too.”

Ed cast a concerned look toward his brother. “Where is this coming from, Al?”

“Just listen, brother,” Alphonse said solemnly. “We’ve been together all our lives. You looked out for me, and I followed you wherever you wanted to go. It made sense then, especially after I lost my body. Believe it or not, I wouldn’t change anything. All the suffering we went through was for the greater good.”

Al took a calming breath to quiet his nerves and continued with renewed purpose. So much for the easy part.

“But from now on I want things to be different. I need to stay here in Resembool right now to recover, figure out my next step. And I’ll always be there for you when you really need me. I want to work with you, brother, but not as just a follower, not anymore.”

Al faltered and directed his gaze toward the worn wood floor. “And when it comes to Winry, I can’t help you there either. I never know what to say. Neither of you are good with words.”

“We’re not,” Ed simply replied, looking to his hands. “Bad habits die hard, I guess.”

This was not the first time Alphonse had managed to catch Ed off guard. The elder Elric would never forget the time Al confessed his sickening suspicion that he was nothing more than counterfeit soul of Ed’s creation. And if he’d initially flinched during that admonition, he wouldn’t now. Hangover be damned.

“I shouldn’t be putting it all on you,” Ed stated with as much of a smile as he could muster. “I should have realized you’ve got your own issues to work through and you’ll want to make your own mark on this world.”

Al released a breath he had not known he’d been holding and finally met his brother’s eyes. He found no disappointment or malice in them. His chest felt light; his mind was unburdened. Al could have sworn that his eyelids felt pleasantly heavier by the second.

“Thank you for understanding, brother.”

From the solace of her front porch, Pinako smiled as she brought her lips to the rim of her teacup. The gray lady blew over the dark liquid sending rolling ripples across the surface. She was neither a sage nor a match maker, not by a long shot. Yet, the result of her earlier advice pleased her tired bones. Her little ones, Winry, Al and Ed, would be alright, even if she wasn’t there to guide them. Good heads on their shoulders, the best intentions in their hearts.

And, if she wasn’t mistaken, that was two birds with one stone. Not bad for a short old lady. It was a shame Pinako didn’t believe in keeping score.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed reading this piece as much as I enjoyed writing it. Admittedly, this chapter was a bit slow paced, but I felt like Al and Ed needed some post-promised day character development. Please stay tuned. The fifth and final chapter is coming soon!


	5. Thrill of the Chase

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost can't believe it. I actually finished a chapter story. Granted, I had about 75% of this written before I even posted the first chapter, but I'll take my small victories where I can get them. I swear I spent about a week tinkering and adding to this chapter. In fact, I've gone back and forth for a while about keeping this last bit as a single chapter versus splitting it into two. At the end of the day, I stuck with my original plan and ending. I hope it was the right decision.
> 
> I owe a big thank you to everyone who left kudos, commented, bookmarked and/or subscribed to this story. I don't find myself wanting to write too much EdWin, and without the support, I'm not sure I would have gotten this far. The end of FMA: Brotherhood left me with more questions than answers, and I hope I was able to fill in some on the canon blanks with plausible explanations.
> 
> Anyway, happy reading! Comments, constructive criticism and requests are always appreciated and encouraged.
> 
> -APH

Ed had a plan.  Well, he had part of a plan, 67% at least.  And if one was rounding, that was closer to 100% than 0%.

Borrow Pinako’s walking stick, no problem.

Hobble from the couch to the bathroom, check.

Take a shower and change into fresh clothes, almost finished, as good as done.

Apologize to Winry… That was where the plan got a little vague.

Normally, Ed was a five minute shower man, but the thick steam collecting in the rustic bathroom told another story.  He stood with his back to the shower’s steady stream, leaning against the tile to compensate for his malfunctioning automail.  The former alchemist relished the feeling of the hot water running down his back, soaking his hair and easing his tensed muscles.

If only the downpour could wash away his mistakes. Ed imagined his harsh words and callous actions running off his body and circling the drain like the dirt and grime from the night before.  What a wonderful world that would be.

But Edward’s solace was as short-lived as the hot water.  His renewed sense of peace evaporated, replaced by a deep foreboding that burrowed into the pit of his stomach.  Lukewarm water cooled Ed’s automail, further straining the damaged connection between body and metal.  Two brilliant engineers lived under the same roof, and yet, Ed mused, the house could only provide 15 minutes of hot water.

The elder Elric brother reached toward the bathroom mirror, bracing his stance precariously on the sink.  He dragged his hand across the reflective surface, wiping away the moist fog.  While Edward could see his own face, the mirror was badly streaked with droplets of excess water and stray fingerprints.  Still, Ed caught sight of himself in the mirror and was surprised to see doubt plastered across his features.

It was no secret; Ed was the spitting image of his father, Van Hohenheim, albeit shorter and with a softer jawline.  And also like Hohenheim, people called him handsome these days, especially after his growth spurt.  Light amber hair and eyes, average height and a body hardened by the rigors of combat… Ed once thought it was enough to tempt Winry, but events had not transpired as he’d hoped.

On his first night back in Resembool, Ed left the door of his room unlocked.  He half expected to hear a quiet knock followed by Winry's soft footfalls and the rustle of well-worn sheets.  Yes, Ed had imagined her crawling into bed with him, pressing her supple form against his body, battered and bloody as it has been at that time, saying with actions what they couldn’t put into words.  In reality, that night was still and solitary.

All too soon, the former alchemist’s longing to woo his would-be childhood sweetheart turned stale.  Uncertainly seethed in Ed’s soul, and the “whats if” of the romantic reunion-that-wasn’t plagued Ed’s dreams.  The young man didn’t sleep well anymore.  He chalked it up to his intact life-force.  With Al back in his own body, Ed no longer bore the burden of sleeping and eating for two; however, there was more to his tossing and turning.

When it came to Winry, Ed always wanted something more.  More than a childhood friend.  More than a mechanic.  More than the furtive glances and lingering touches of late.

Edward reluctantly forced himself to focus on the task at hand and attempted to banish the vivid reverie of Winry’s silhouette against the firelight from his mind’s eye.  Fumbling hands forced his inoperable automail into an old pair of sweatpants, but vertigo got the better of his balance.  Ed cursed loudly as he stumbled, just catching himself on the cold ledge of the porcelain bathtub.  The young man sank to the floor and allowed himself a moment to gather his bearings. He pondered the enigma that was Winry Rockbell.

She’d smiled so broadly in the early evening, a grin so unguarded that it almost reached her ears.  Ed had been energized and debilitated in equal measure by the penetrating way she’d looked at him that night, like she had something to say.  Not for the first time, he believed that the moment for proclamations of love, gratitude and attraction had arrived.  But, once again, Winry said nothing, and a disappointed Edward Elric hadn’t known how to respond.  So, he drank as if the answer was at the bottom of a bottle.  For this, if nothing else, Ed owed Winry an apology.

Ed left the safe confines of the bathroom, and the last of the sticky steam escaped as he opened the bathroom door.  Edward’s sleeveless shirt stuck uncomfortably to his damp skin; his hair was barely towel dry, hanging loose around his face.  A ponytail would have only served to aggravated his booze-induced headache.  Relying heavily on the borrowed walking stick, the young man sloppily made his way down the hall and toward the staircase.  He took the steps one at a time. 

…

Many wonderful things came out of the Rockbell Automail workshop, but Ed knew firsthand that progress came at the expense of pain.  The sight of glinting silver and the smell of hot metal never failed to bring him back to the moment he awoke from the installation surgery.  It was all searing pain and flailing limbs at first.  Thankfully, Pinako had taken the wise precaution of restraining the alchemist’s arms and legs.  During his recovery, Ed often saw doubt in his Granny’s experienced eyes.  On the other hand, Winry’s faith never faltered.

Rockbell Automail held a special place in Winry’s heart.  At a time when her peers concerned themselves with whimsical fairy tales, she delved into anatomy books and devoured automail model manuals.  After the death of her parents, Rockbell Automail became Winry’s sanctuary from the questioning looks and judgmental stances of small-minded and mouthy townsfolk.  Knowing this, Ed approached the workshop cautiously.  From the broad tables adorned with crisp, clean linens to the tools laid out meticulously at her workstation, this place was Winry’s church.

“I come in peace,” Ed announced ahead of himself.  The brave Fullmetal Alchemist didn’t dare show face in the entryway for fear of Winry’s trusty wrench.  Instead, Ed waived a makeshift flag of both truce and surrender, Pinako’s walking stick topped with a white dishrag.

“Took you long enough,” Winry said tersely.  “Get in here.  I won’t bite.”

While the talented automail mechanic’s tone did nothing to insure that she, indeed, wouldn’t bite, Ed lowered his sorry banner of armistice and peered cautiously around the doorframe.  Winry sat with crossed arms and legs on the edge of a familiar cot.  Her tools were at the ready, and her hair was secured by a familiar green bandana.  Despite the oppressive summer heat, Winry’s had chosen to forgo her customary crop top in lieu of a worn white t-shirt, stained with the elbow grease of her chosen craft.  With an exasperated, but resigned, expression, Winry motioned for Ed to take his place on the cot.

Ed complied moving gingerly through the workshop, careful not to so much as graze the metal odds and ends spread over either workstation.  He plopped on the cot with more force than expected, embarrassed as it creaked under his weight. Wordlessly, Winry hoisted Ed’s automail atop the mattress and helped free the offending leg from his sweatpants.  After removing the armor plating and severing the connection, the mechanic began her examination in silence.  As always, she started at the bottom, working her way to the top.

“Guess I really made a mess this time, huh,” Ed said as he watched Winry survey the ins and outs of his automail.  Ed smiled at the sight of her furrowed brows, lips pressed thin in concentration.

 “I expected worse,” she replied.  Her tone was professional, but she never looked up from the mess of gears and wires.  “Shouldn’t need more than a recalibration, turn it off and back on to get everything firing properly.  I see a few bent parts too, but I have those on hand.  A good oiling wouldn’t hurt...”

Her voice trailed off as her fingers found the place where metal met flesh, just south of Ed’s boxers.  His skin was rough and tinged red, a result of near-constant irritation.  Automail had its advantages over less functional prosthetics, but pain and the expense of regular maintenance were par for the course.  Knowingly this, Winry tried to make Ed’s sacrifices worth his while.  His leg was as his arm had been, custom, more lifelike in movement and purpose than other ostentatious models.

“I’ll give you the schematics of my-this design, just in case,” Winry said softly as she effortlessly loosened a bolt with her trusty wrench.

Ed propped his upper body upon his elbows, confused by Winry’s offer.  “In case of what?”

“You know.  For when I go back to Rush Valley.”  She still wouldn’t meet his eyes.  “I thought about what you said last night.  Maybe I should continue my apprenticeship.  I’m sure Mr. Garfiel and my old clients wou…”

“Don’t leave,” Ed interrupted.  He took the wrench from Winry’s palm and replaced the cold metal with something warmer, his right hand.  A million excuses flew through Ed’s mind:  His automail, Granny’s fragile health, Al’s recovery…  But Ed had a rare moment of clarity.  He knew precisely what he wanted to say and exactly how to say it.  Only the truth, nothing but. 

“I’m sorry for what I said last night.  I drank too much because I got frustrated.  I kept thinking it would just happen, but it hasn’t. I didn’t-I don’t know how to tell you, t-tell you how I fe…”

Winry cupped Ed’s face with her free hand before he could utter another word.  Thoughtlessly, she ran her thump across his lips.  They were softer, more yielding than she’d imagined, and when she spoke, her crystal blue eyes met Ed’s golden orbs.  “I know. I shouldn't have overreacted because I feel the same… I think. But I don’t want you to say it, not yet.”

Ed relished the feeling of Winry’s calloused thumb against his mouth.  Whatever else she would say, Ed appreciated that he still had a chance.  His feelings were validated, perhaps even requited.  The thought made him smile against the pressure of her digit.

“I _like_ you, and I think you _like_ me too. It's just...” She paused, as if carefully measuring her words.  “I grew up fast.  We all did.  Me, you and Al, we didn’t have a choice.  But with this,” Winry laced her fingers through Ed’s and brought their clashed hands to the hollow of her chest, “I have a choice.  And I don’t want to rush it.  I want the chase, Ed, not the fall.  Not yet.”

Ed’s body felt stunned, frozen in an intimate position with Winry.  Her eyes pleaded with him.  She wanted… what?

“Does that make sense?  Is that ok?” Winry asked with questioning eyes. 

Ed didn’t have the heart to refuse Winry.  “Yeah, of course,” he lied as she untangled her hands from his body. 

Winry smiled in response as she contentedly went back about her work.  Albeit, her touch felt warmer, gentler.  Ed laid back on the cot, confused beyond the point of return but delighted that a simple "I'm sorry" had gone so far.  His mind reeled as time passed.  The young man grasped fruitlessly at the meaning behind her words, riddling it all out in his mind.  Chase?  Fall?  What the _hell_ did that mean?

“Ready?” Winry asked.  Ed snapped back to reality as he noticed her hands poised to reconnect his automail.  He grimaced with a curt nod, and Winry proceeded.  Ed steadied his breath and suppressed a groan.  White hot pain shot through the offending limb as nerve endings abruptly sparked to life.  His automail leg stiffened and went slack.

“Feel ok?” Winry asked as a matter of course.  Ed flexed his heel out, wiggling his mechanical toes. 

“Much better.  Thanks,” he replied as he sat up.  The older Elric brother was all set to go, but his feet felt firmly rooted to the ground.  There was something he was forgetting.  Ed racked his brain for the answer, and his earlier conversation with Al came to mind.

“Hey Win,” Ed said gesturing for Winry to sit next to him.  She did, and without a second thought, Ed clasped her hand.  

“Al’s been having a tough time of it lately, with his recovery and all,” Ed explained, stretching the truth ever so slightly.  “I know you and I both talk to him at night sometimes.”

“I do,” Winry admitted.  She shifted closer to the former alchemist, pressing her shoulder against his.  “I didn’t know he was having trouble.  Is it terrible of me to say that I’m not used to Al needing sleep?”

“No, I know what you mean.  I’m guilty of that, too,” Ed chuckled.  Without thinking he reached out and tucked a stay piece of hair behind Winry’s ear.  Ed squeezed her hand as he chanced his next thought.  “But um… now that he’s got his body back, I find that I don’t need as much sleep.  So maybe, if you want to talk or… _whatever_ , you could just come to me… to give Al a break and all.  My door’s always open.”

Winry's cheeks turned an unfamiliar shade of pink.  “Yeah, I’d like that.  We could talk or… _whatever_.”

A strange sort of magnetism drew the childhood friends together.  In some ways, the urge, that longing had grown slowly, over time.  In other ways, it was only starting to make sense.  Of course, Ed would respect Winry’s wishes.  He wouldn’t talk about _it_ if she preferred to leave things open ended, but he was done fighting the way he felt about Winry Rockbell.  And when Ed felt his lips graze Winry’s, he honestly didn’t know who had kissed whom.

In fact, he didn’t care.

The former alchemists’ lips were soft, but his kiss was not.  His unpracticed mouth burned against Winry’s, setting their bodies alight with the kind of urgency and want that only a first love could kindle.  When Ed felt Winry’s deft fingers tangle themselves in his damp hair, he deepened the embrace without hesitation, cupping her face with his free hand.  They wouldn’t be disturbed in the workshop, but all the same, time suddenly seemed like a valuable commodity.  

Winry responded in kind as a sigh escaped her throat.  The sound was enough to make Ed’s head spin as he pressed his body against her curves.  A foreign fire began to burn in Ed’s belly as he remembered Winry’s confession.  It had always been Winry, only her, and if she wanted to chase love before falling into it, Ed would oblige.  But distance would only complicate matters, and he had no intention of making it easy for her to run away to Rush Valley.

Ed breathlessly drew back, breaking their tantalizing contact.  The young man smirked as he noticed Winry’s unfocused state.  She gazed back at Ed through heavy lidded eyes.  He lowered his mouth to Winry's ear, relishing the heavy rise and fall of her chest against his.

“Of course it would be kinda hard to talk or _whatever_ if you’re in Rush Valley.  Do you think you could stick around for a little while longer?”

“I could be convinced,” Winry chuckled.  Ed pressed his lips to Winry’s for a second time.

…

On the other side of the Rockbell residence, Al snoozed peacefully.  Unfazed by the sun’s afternoon glow, the younger Elric dreamt of far off places and exotic people, a young girl with dark hair and eyes who smiled sweetly.  It was the best sleep he’d had in a long, long time.


End file.
